


The Dog Thing

by Emmuzka



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dog fic, M/M, Sid has routines, Stella the dog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6112099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmuzka/pseuds/Emmuzka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sid. Did I just saw you rub Stella against Bennett?”</p><p>Wherein Stella becomes the Pens’ unofficial therapy dog, or rather, Sid’s Routine Dog. Phil kind of likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dog Thing

It all started with a family skate, a “bring your kids to work day”, whatever you wanted to call it. You brought your spouse and kids, maybe a sibling, and there would be family friendly fun and skating with teeny tiny children and sometimes girlfriends that could hardly even stay upright on skates. Phil didn’t have the first kind, definitely didn’t have the middle kind, and Amanda and David weren’t in town, so rather than going completely stag, Phil decided to bring Stella with him. 

It was for the kids, Phil explained on camera for the media people, who of course loved it. There would be plenty of cute footage of Stella and kids, the girls in Pens jerseys and pink tutus and Stella with a Penguins bandanna. Phil also had to endure chirping for bringing in his “baby”, but fuck them, if he wanted to bring his dog to a family skate, he would, end of story.

When the kids had had enough and the family guys had ushered them to change and get some treats, the media producers concentrated on the guys with girlfriends. Or just on the guys, like it was with Phil, Sid and some of the younger guys.

“Oh, this is good! You should pick her up!” That was the tone that came out of women only when they were in the presence of small children or cute animals, so Phil looked around to get the whereabouts of Stella. 

And there she was, playing with Sid, and encouraged to be picked up by the video director woman. Or as Phil called her, the Fan Service Woman. Phil watched Sid getting licked by his dog in an admittedly adorable manner. Their fur and hair even curled the same way. The media people really knew what they were doing. 

Phil skated to nearby to help with Stella if the situation called it, and was then of course pushed in the same frame with Sid. Just great. 

Sid was in no hurry with his new friend and he seemed even relaxed despite the camera that he knew was zoomed at him. Phil didn’t know what to say that he’d want to end up in Pens TV, so he said nothing outside the _Hey girl!_ stuff that he used to steer Stella’s attention.  
Eventually the video crew decided that they had enough and Phil and Sid were left on their own. 

“You can put her down on ice, you know. Her paws can take it.”

Still, it looked like Sid was feeling reluctant to put her down. Finally he solved the problem by offering her to Phil to hold, instead of laying her down. 

Huh. Sidney Crosby seemed like a dog person. Phil could appreciate that. “You should have your own dog.”

Sid smiled to Stella, and then looked up to Phil, still smiling. “Oh no, I couldn’t. My life is way too hectic for owning a dog.”

“I can do it.” 

“Yeah,” Sidney admitted, looking wistful. “You can.” 

The second time was a few days later, when Phil’s dog sitter called in sick. Phil was already running late, so instead of dropping Stella to a dog day care like he would usually have, he just took her with him to the morning skate. There were always equipment people and other support staff around, and keeping an eye on a player’s dog wasn’t unheard of.

Phil had no intention to bring Stella to the actual locker room at all, but that plan got scrapped when they met Sid just outside of it. 

“Hey there!” Phil didn’t know if the other man’s greeting was meant for him or his dog or them both, but he guessed it was for Stella. Sid went straight to scoop Stella up, which Phil didn’t particularly appreciate because Stella wasn’t a lap dog. She was a poodle breed, yes, and spoiled, yes, but she wasn’t a yappy freaking handbag dog, far from it. 

“You brought her! Let’s bring her to meet all the guys!” 

“Yeah, okay.” What else there was to do, when your captain had already turned away with your dog? And whatever, they guys would love Stella, she was awesome. 

And that was that. Sid went to introduce Stella to all and each of them, even those who had already met her, and then she was put to the office and settled to a dog bed that Phil had brought with him. Phil went to the practice. Then they went home, ate, took a nap, Phil went back in, and that night they won. So a good day, all ‘n all. 

There wasn’t supposed to be a third time, until there was. 

Phil was leaving a practice when he noticed that Sid had hung around, waiting for him, it seemed. Sid gestured him to pause. “Could you bring Stella tomorrow? Um, to the practice, not to the game. Obviously.”

What was this? “You ask me to bring my dog tomorrow?”

The look on Sid’s face was earnest. “Yeah. She raises everyone’s spirits, did you notice? And we need all the good karma we can get.”

Honestly, Phil didn’t get it. What were them, a nursing home where some volunteer brought a dog in to make everyone feel like they still had a pulse? Several of the guys had dogs at home. But it wasn’t a big deal to bring her, and it was Sid who was asking, so why not.

They won the next day, 5-2 against the Devils. After, Sid came to Phil, still flustered from the game, and suggested that maybe he should bring Stella for the next day’s practice, too. Phil recognized the gleam in Sid eyes, the face he gave when Sid thought that he was _onto something._ To other people it read as his _Sid has created a new routine and is feeling the thrill of it_ face. 

So after that, it was on. Phil took Stella with him to the practice, and Sid made sure that every player petted her. They never explained to the guys the reason for it or who came up with it, but Phil thought that most of them probably guessed. Stella’s corner in the office gathered a new Pens themed dog bed and more toys than what was sensible. 

Someone in the media crew created a twitter account for Stella, and in two weeks, it had gathered more followers than what Phil had. They joked that Phil couldn’t compete because he posted just pics of his dog, when his dog posted selfies with Sidney Crosby. The joke got less funny when somebody let the press hear it and Phil actually had to comment on it, but still. Quite funny. 

It felt comfortable. And Phil liked that Sid liked his dog. Though, sometimes it went a bit ridiculous. 

“Sid. Did I just saw you rub Stella against Bennett?”

“Um.” Sid hugged Stella awkwardly, like he would have liked to hide her behind him in a _it wasn’t me!_ gesture, but failing to do so because you can’t do that with dogs. “It’s for good luck?” 

Phil just sighed and motioned them to carry on. In Sid’s world, that could be a totally adequate explanation to almost anything, from keeping the same jock for ten years to kissing goal posts. If Sid felt that a dog brought something positive to his world order, then it was only logical to actually rub the said dog against someone who seemed to be in need of a little bit of extra luck that night.

The team’s good drive slumped during their next away game tour, but that was normal, right. That happened. What wasn’t normal, even in Phil’s usual _I’m not giving a shit_ standards, was when Kurt, their travel logistics guy, came to tell him that there was a space and a carrier reserved for Stella for their next away game flight. 

Phil thanked the man and then went to speak his mind to the person that he knew was actually behind this show.

“Care to explain why it looks like my dog is now gathering frequent flyer miles?”

“Because we slumped in the last tour?” Phil noted that Sid wasn’t even ashamed of straight up thinking that the absence of his dog had actually had something to do with it.

Phil got into Sid's face to get his message through to the other man. “As long as you remember that this is a living, breathing animal you are talking about, Sid. If she tires out or feels uncomfortable, then she’s out, no matter what you think. Okay?”

“Okay, of course.” Sid nodded, eager to agree with Phil, but he still looked like he got what Phil was saying. 

“And also you’ll tell the guys that you asked me to bring her. I don’t want to hear any shit about me being some privileged asshole that demands to take his dog on the road.”

“They would never!” Sid started, but then thought better of it. “Okay, no problem.”

“And the media.” Sidney looked like he’d have something to say about that, but then he nodded, deciding to let it be. 

“So we are okay, me, you and the good-luck-dog. I think that I’ll have to go now and make sure that Stella’s shots and papers are in order. Or do you need shots when traveling over state lines?”

“There’s uh. Canada?”

“Right.” Trust Sidney to extend their flying dog plan to include all the cities, not just ones in the States. Phil turned to Sid, wanting to continue the conversation with Sid, about dogs, or anything. He didn’t even know why. 

Sid stood there, smiling but not seemingly able to keep the conversation going either. “Right,” Phil said again, and went. That had been weird.

So Stella got his travel documents updated and started to accompany them in away games, too. Sid did the “dog speech” to the guys, and no-one opposed bringing her along. Luckily no-one was allergic. 

Sid didn’t, technically speaking, give the real dog speech to the media, but rather told a lighthearted story of how Stella had become a kind of a therapy dog and a mascot for them all, and how it helped the guys to de-stress, and how the management had then decided to just keep her with them during away games, too. As predicted, the press ate it up, some liking to discuss about the idea of therapy animals in pro sports, some leaching to a claim that Phil selfishly just wanted to drag his over-appreciated animal along with him on Pens’ dime. 

The social media guys presented, maybe accidentally, the most truthful scene, with tweets and videos of Sid carrying Stella around for the guys to pet, most probably to ensure that everyone had touched her before leaving to the ice. 

Okay, for Phil, it still felt weird. Not that Stella went with them, per se, but the public interest it gathered. She even got her own fan signs in warm ups, now. But Sunshine, Olli and Pouliot all kept in one piece, Sid seemed less awkward in front of the guys and less reserved in front of the cameras, and Flower stopped looking so devastated after losses. They were even winning more games. There was that, and even if you didn’t believe in Stella’s magical good luck dog powers, her unapologetic happiness and enthusiasm really did seem to help the guys to deal with them missing their own dogs and families in away games. 

“Other people have medical alert dogs and helper dogs and therapy dogs”, Flower chirped at his captain. “You have a Sidney Crosby Routine dog. And it isn’t even your dog.”

So the Pens kept reserving dog-approved hotel rooms and animal crates for their chartered flights (because a charter or not, she still had to be secured while taxing and landing). There even appeared a new guy in the equipment manager roster, who used a suspiciously large amount of his time making sure that Stella was happy, safe, and most importantly, not in an urgent need of peeing. The guys just nicknamed him Dog man and carried on like it was normal to have a dog sitter on their staff. Phil was okay with it, but only after he’d make sure that it was really the organization that paid their unofficial therapy dog’s expenses and not Sidney from his own pocket. 

Things went kind of weird again when Phil opted out from a skate. The day’s practice was optional, and even when Phil had taken into a habit of showing up in every one of them while in Pens, for today he had been instructed to make it a maintenance day. Phil was yet to miss a single game in Pens and he wanted to keep it that way, but his shoulder had been bothering him slightly, and when the team’s head physician had suggested a day of no other exercise than light stretching, he’d taken it.

Phil felt a tiny bit of remorse for not showing up, but that was more because of Stella and Sid’s firm belief that the dog helped them to win games. He even, just for a moment, considered calling Sid to ask if he wanted to come and pick Stella up for the practice. But no, he wouldn’t do that, no way. The guy just had to learn to live with some irregularities in his life.

Five minutes into their regular starting time Phil got a text from Sid. 

_From Sidney Crosby: Not coming to practice today? Sick?_

_No, just resting_ Phil shot back. The coach and the office knew that he wasn’t coming today, so it hadn’t come to him to inform Sid separately too, because it had been _an optional skate_ for fuck sake. 

Two hours later Phil got another text.

 _From Sidney Crosby: I’m at your front door._

Phil went to open it. He was a bit irked that the door service had waved Sid in without a thought, but hey, Sidney Crosby. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t have known who he was, or suspect him having no legitimate business to visit Phil.

“What are you doing here?” Phil asked, at the same time stepping backwards to let the guy in. He wasn’t completely without manners.

Sid stood in the hall, looking like his standard awkward self. He had a plastic bag with him, and he offered it to Phil like some kind of peace offering. “I brought you lunch, so you wouldn’t have to fetch it.” 

_They do usually deliver, though_ , Phil wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead he went with “You came to see Stella, didn’t you?” 

Sid opened his mouth to what? Deny it? Agree to it? But then he decided to say nothing, and make some kind of _Whatcha gonna do?!_ gesture instead.

“Okay.” Phil took the bag, which smelled really good. Sid must have called in with an order pretty much right after his first text. “We’ll eat lunch, and then watch tv or something. Stella is there,” he gestured towards the living room, himself continuing to the kitchen to put the food on more presentable containers. Sid brought him lunch, from an actual restaurant even, so they would sit down to his dining table and eat it like it deserved to be eaten. 

It was surprisingly nice. Phil saddled Sid with the lead in the conversation, since it was him who had wanted to come in the first place. So they talked about the morning’s practice, and then about hockey in general. 

After the lunch, Phil got up to walk Stella, fully expecting Sid to use the moment as an excuse to leave, but he just went with them.

“You want to hold the leash?” 

Sid looked at the offered leash end, but kept his hands on his pockets. “Um, you keep it, I’m good.” Hmm, maybe this Seeing Phil -thing wasn’t all about Stella, after all. Phil turned to look at Sid, who just looked awkward like he’d be trying to decide if it had been impolite to turn the offer down. 

Phil just flashed him a smile and they kept going. One thing they didn’t teach at the school of Polite Canadians: Dog walking as a couple. 

So the Dog Thing continued with the team, and the lunch thing continued with Sid. Sometimes they went to a dog friendly restaurant right after the practice and sometimes they hung at Phil’s flat. Then the Dog man said that they could as well leave Stella with him for between the practice and a game if they had stuff to do, so they put that offer in use, too.

They kept their Dog-thing-without-the-dog –thing under wraps. They had an unspoken agreement to act like nothing would have changed. Phil thought that maybe they kept it like that because of a fear that forcing them to determine what they were actually doing could kill it. Whatever it was. Phil imagined that if it would have been anyone else than Sid, wanting to hang with a teammate’s dog would have been perceived as stranger than wanting to hang with the dog’s owner, but this was _Sid._ Sid didn’t just make friends, even if they were easily accessible (like teammates), had common interests (like hockey) and a great excuse to keep in touch (like a shared dog).

So they kept doing _whatever_ , and Phil thought that when something would eventually push them to determine and give a name to it, the push would come from outside and force them to it. 

Until the time came, and then it wasn’t an outside force at all, but Sid. 

Phil answered Sid’s call, wondering what it would be about. Maybe something about the next day’s game? It was too late in the evening to call to invite someone to dinner or to just hang out. “Yeah, what?” 

There was a few seconds of silence. Then Sid breathed, “You should come to my place.”

Phil didn’t ask why. Instead he said “Okay” and “You do realize that I’m not bringing Stella with me.”

“That’s okay,” Sid said into the phone. “I think that you by yourself will do just fine.”

Sid was waiting him by the door, and for Christ sake, with no shirt on. A great way to show that yes, they were on the same page on why he was here, Phil thought, and walked straight to Sid’s arms.

And then there was sex. Which, first of all, Hey, sex! But it also was passionate and hot and a little bit ridiculous, because it was him and Sid. They fit. Phil was amazed. 

When they were cooling down, feeling all stupid and lazy, Phil was still, kind of, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Next time, do bring Stella.”

“Huh?” Had he read this wrong, after all? Because no way in hell had this been some Sid’s misguided attempt to secure the access to his freaking dog.

“So you can stay the night.”

“Oh.” Of course. Now they could allow themselves a lazy moment, but soon Phil would have to get up, if for nothing else but go to feed and walk the dog. “Okay, I will.” 

It took them three months of bro-lunches and definitely not-bro stay-overs to decide that they wanted to move in together. Or rather, that Phil would move with Sid because Phil’s flat was a rental and Sid had way too many routines fixed to his home to change his environment _and_ learn to live with someone, at the same time.

Sid would also have to learn to live with a dog. Which would mean a subtle dog smell and dog hair everywhere, and finding disgusting half-chewed bones and raw hide treats in surprising places, Phil warned. 

But there would be perks in co-habiting with a dog, too. “Then you can rub your good-luck-dog as much as you want.”

Sid kissed Phil on his nose, because yes, he was allowed, and yes, they really were that disgustingly cute together.

“Yeah, then there’s that, too.”


End file.
